Death
by Akanesi
Summary: Jack's many deaths aboard the Valliant. Some are more creative than others. Rated M for violence. Chapter 21 is up! All reviews are welcome.
1. Walk in the Park

Every time I get dragged back into life something is different. A pipe, lying broken and battered on the floor, a cord, sparking against the wall, a wrench, leaning against my leg, a knife, pooling in blood at my feet. He always leaves the murder weapon behind. For me to see it. For me to know that he shows no remorse. But he does. He wouldn't need to make a point about not caring if he didn't.

Each time he moves into my presence I sense him and steel myself against the blows I am sure will come. He beats, electrocutes, starves and stabs me. Each time he comes back he finds different, more exciting ways to end me. But I keep coming back. This angers him and every time I return to life I know that it will be worst next time.

The first time he kills me is on the deck, with his laser screwdriver in front of everyone. In front of the world. All I can hope is that Torchwood aren't watching. I don't know why I hope that, I just do.

When I come back to life he's still there. He stares at me, calls me a freak and ages the Doctor. I panicked then. Without the Doctor everything will go wrong. Without the Doctor we couldn't defeat him. My only consolation is that Martha got away. Every day that he comes down into the bowls of the Valliant and kills me is another day that Martha is free and I would gladly die a hundred deaths than have her captured. Because she gives us hope. Everyone on the Valliant. Right down from the slaves who must do what they are told up to the soldiers who do it out of fear, it gives us all hope. It must.

The second time he kills me, I am chained, defenceless. He takes his time, beating and cutting me. I can see that he's fascinated by me. And if he waits long enough he can watch the wounds heal before his very eyes. But one thing that I've learnt is that he's not a patient soul.

When I come to he is gone. I was surprised, thinking that he would want to be there when I come gasping back into this world. But he chose to watch from a monitor, depersonalised from me and my death by a camera.

The next three times he kills me he comes down and rants and raves about Martha. I just smile grimly about how she is eluding him. This kind of visit always ends with a question.

"Where is Martha Jones? What is she going to do? How do I find her?"

He threatens me with everything under the sun including the death of the Doctor, but I always answer with the same words, calmly, my outer attitude never betraying my inside feeling of panic.

"I can not tell you what I do not know."

In the end I think I get through to him that I don't know where she is. He stops asking me those questions. I think he realised that if I knew where she was I would rather give her up than watch the Doctor die. Maybe he's right.

The next five times he kills me, it's with a wire, garrotting me. I don't know why he does it so many times. I don't think I want to.

For the first two of the wire deaths he is silent through out, but with the last three he speaks to me. Of what's going on up in the real world. Who he's killed. Which countries he's wiped out. How inferior my species is. He's a typical master criminal: he loves the sound of his own voice.

The eleventh time he kills me, he talked with me for an hour before hand. I'm suspicious of him. It's never good when the bad guys want to talk with you. But he doesn't ask questions. He just talks. Mostly about earth. He tells me stories about the great wonders of the modern day world falling under him. His favourite one to date is about seeing the Eiffel Tower fall. About how the people were crushed under the majestic tower and how the steeple snapped in two and fell to earth with an almighty crash.

He then, quite calmly, as if it was nothing more than a walk in the park, rises from his chair and snaps my neck. When I wake up I remind myself that for him, it probably is just a walk in the park.

The next three times he kills me he talks about Russia. That was his next target. He told me how he blasted it with the Valliant's weapons and how the whole east coast has sunk a couple of inches. He electrocutes me these times. He laughs as I scream and I swear I hear him say, just before I die for the third time:

"Bored now."

When I wake from those deaths he's gone again but I can't help think that I'll see him again soon.


	2. Pawn

Whenever I close my eyes or drift off into a fitful sleep I see the faces of the humans down below, screaming as they die. Toclofane murdering them at his order. Explosions and fire. People burning alive in flames of orange and red. I think about my team. They must all be dead now. He said they were in the Himalayas and that was one of the first places to be attacked, the population completely wiped out. I can't see how they could have survived. But I can hope.

When he kills me for the fifteenth time he brings Lucy to watch. She stands meekly in the corner not saying anything. I see the bruises on her arms and the new red dress, apologising. It's strange that he feels he must do that. He doesn't have to. She looks fearful, as if she doesn't want to be here. As if she'd rather be a million miles away. I have to feel sorry for her. She's just another human being that was pulled into this. I don't think she had a choice. When he's got his claws in you it's impossible to escape. I learnt that today as he raked the screwdriver down my flesh, skinning me alive.

When I wake this time I am on fire. My whole body is burning with pain. I put 'skinning alive' on the list of especially horrible ways to die. I'm not alone though. Lucy has remained, probably on his order. He wants to see how she reacts. How I react. She moves closer to me. She doesn't want to be here. Hell, I don't want to be here. In the end we're both victims of a madman's game. She has even less freedom than I do.

The next four times he kills me he uses his fists to beat me to death. Lucy is always there. Watching, waiting. She's the one that holds his suit as he rains down punches upon me. She's the one that is left to clean up the blood and sometimes guts if he gets too enthusiastic. She is the one that is always there when I wake. She is the one that stares at me for a good half hour before moving away and leaving. She never speaks, never says anything. It's just silence. Sometimes that scares me more than the deaths. Beatings and blood I can understand but I was never that good at psychology.

The last of those four beatings, he uses knuckle dusters. I can see Lucy flinch with every strike. I wonder how many times he has used them on her. How many times she wishes she could die. Each day she has new bruises and a new piece of clothing or jewellery or make up. It's like he has a temper he can't control but is sorry for it afterwards. Or maybe she's just a pawn in his game.


	3. Lucy

When he kills me for the twentieth time he calls Lucy out of her corner and gets her to use the knife. I see the fear in her eyes. She doesn't want to become a killer. But if she doesn't she'll be dead by morning. Some choice. He guides her hand until the tip of the knife is pressing into my flesh. He then pulls her hand back and releases her. He wants her to do it for herself.

I wake from this death with a sick feeling in my gut. Lucy has killed once, now there's no going back.

The next five times I die, she kills me. The first two with him there. The other three, just her. She says he has business to attend to. On the fifth death I ask why (anything to keep the knife out of me), she looks surprised and says something about Japan burning. I press her and she tells me that he wants to make the Jones' family watch Japan fall and see their faces. I call him a sick bastard but her face hardens and she plunges the knife into me.

When I wake from the last death I realise that whatever he's done to her, the bruises, the punches, whatever, she still loves him. That night I cry for her, because even though she does, he won't let her live after he has conquered the earth. Lucy has been placed in life with the worst kind of burden. To love someone that doesn't even know you are there.


	4. Taught to be Insane

When I die for the twenty-sixth time he watches as she tortures me to death. She cuts off my fingers and pulls out my hair. Sliced flesh from my chest slams into the floor and I see the crazed glint in her eye. I know then, there is no hope for her.

When I wake she is gone but he remains. He's standing in front of me, just watching.

"She's very good at what she does, isn't she?" he laughs. I ignore him. There's no point in saying anything. "She leant from the best, after all."

"Yes, she did. I didn't realise that she was insane though." I receive a back hander across the face. "What's the matter, don't you like me speaking about your Lucy like that," I croon. I know this is stupid. That I shouldn't be goading him but I can't help it.

He smiles. "Oh, she is insane alright. I made sure of that."

"What did you do to her?" I ask quietly.

"I took her to the end of the universe. I showed her that everything ended and that there was no point in the human race. I showed her that however hard man works he will always fail and in the end he will die."

"Why? Why destroy someone like that?"

"It was an interesting experiment to see how the humans would handle it and I must say that Lucy fared very well."

I gaped at him. "Very well? She's insane."

"So?" he said softly.

"She'll end up self destructing."

"I've been insane for all these years and I haven't."

"That's what you think." His face darkens at that and I prepare myself for another death. But instead of grabbing a wrench and bashing my head in his scowl becomes a smirk, he turns on heel and walks away.

When I die for the twenty-seventh time I see no one. It also takes the longest. I've always been terrified of dieing of starvation or thirst. It's not something I want to repeat to often. But I've seen no one for three days. I can usually survive four days without water, due to my curse, but I will still die from it if I don't get some water soon.

When I wake from my most recent death Tish is standing there, holding a bottle of water. She winced as I woke but relaxes when I smile at her. I drain the bottle and thank her. She checks behind her and then leaning in close, she whispers:

"The Doctor says don't worry. It'll all be alright."

"That's easy for him to say." I'm ashamed to find a hint of bitterness in my voice.

"He says that it'll all be ok."

I roll my neck from side to side, impatiently.

"When?"

"He doesn't know yet but as soon as he does, you will."

"What's going on up there? All I ever hear are gloating stories from him." I nodded upwards.

"He made me and my family stand on deck and watch Japan burn." Her voice wavered and shook as she tried not to cry.

"I'm sorry." Somehow it sounded inadequate. She smiled at me though but quickly withdrew when a guard marched in behind her.

"That's long enough. Out." She put a hand to my face and then turned and ran away as bullets thudded into the ceiling and the guard shouted abuse at her. Not all of the guards only served because they were scared I realised. Some were just as insane as he was.


	5. Examination

The next two times I die of starvation. He gets Tish to bring me water every day but no food. It's like it's a game to him. He never comes in now though, preferring to watch me on the TV screens. He may even be broadcasting my repeated deaths to the world. But that might give them hope. An invincible human. It takes me 3 and a half weeks to die each time. An average human wouldn't have lasted this long but his sick experiment concludes the minute I give up and close my eyes. I could have done that on the two week mark but I didn't. I can just imagine him dancing into my cell and laughing at my weakness.

When I wake the last time, Tish is again standing there, only this time laden with food. He must want to keep my strength up so I last longer next time.

The thirtieth time he kills me he uses his laser screwdriver. But it's not quick. It's anything other than quick. He turns it on at a low setting and leaves it on a spot just long enough for it to eat through a few layers of my flesh and then moves on. He stops before I'm gone and watches me bleed to death.

When I come round he's there still, staring at me. His gaze makes me uncomfortable. Even so it's two hours before I break and ask him what the hell is he doing?

"I'm examining your living and dieing characteristics."

"Anything else you care to examine?"

I wake from the thirty-first and swear to myself I'll never answer back again.


	6. Choose!

The next three deaths are by human hands. He took great joy in calling up his newest recruitment of soldiers and picking one of them to shoot me.

The first was wavering but did it. When I came round the soldier was still standing there and his face was deathly white. There was a pool of sick on the floor and the soldier looked disgusted at what he done.

The second one refused outright. He said he didn't want to be here. He trained his gun on my captor and fired. The gun blew up in the soldier's face, hurling him across the room into me.

The third one was a volunteer. I didn't expect any mercy and I didn't receive any. The soldier walked right up to me and shot me through the head at point blank range.

My captor howled with laughter at every one.


	7. Variety

The thirty-fifth time he bounces into the room with glee. A hundred terrible thoughts whirl through my head: Martha's been captured, the Doctor is dead, Tish has been shot, the earth has exploded. They become more and more wild until:

"I've thought of a new way to kill you."

Oh, that's a relief.

After I wake from that death I vow never to pass an opinion again before the event has happened.

The next three deaths I spend on my knees. He lets the chains run out and… wait for it, knocks me round the head with a shovel. Not as half as painful as it sounds.

The first time it's the top of the head. The second, the bottom and the third both sides. No one can say that that man doesn't like variety.

He's never there when I wake. But he always returns within minutes to bash my head in again. I have no rest and no peace. But they are quick and I thank god for that.


	8. Kindred Spirit

The thirty-ninth time he kills me he pulls the trigger. The gun resonating off the walls as the bullet smashes into my chest.

When I wake he's there and he complains about how messy guns are. He calls them and us primitive and calls the cleaner into the room. I look up expecting to see Tish or one of her parents but Lucy enters.

"Got your own wife doing the housework?" I sneer. She steps forward and kicks me on the shin. I flinch but otherwise don't react. I've had a lot worse. He just grins and points to the blood.

"Clean it up," he orders. As she passes him he grabs her and kisses her passionately. When she is released she continues towards me as if nothing had happened.

Even though it's only been a few weeks since I last saw her, the change is starterling. Her hair is askew and her make up smudged. She has fresh bruises forming over old ones and she stinks of fear. Her fingers are rough, and looking down at them, I see blood under the fingernails and the fingertips are scarred like they were dragged over sandpaper.

The fortieth time he kills me he starts to talk again. He describes his home world, Gallifrey. I've already heard a brief description from the Doctor but this in so much more detail.

He speaks of the domed city, the mountains, the sky, the ships, the wastelands. He talks of the animals they had and the buildings, how everything was made. He describes Time Lord society and their values and traditions. He talks with real pride about his race.

He then rose and sauntered towards me. He gripped the back of my neck and pulled me close, whispering in my ear:

"I saw a kindred spirit in you."

"You're losing your mind," I replied coldly.

When I woke from that death I thought of all the things in my life I could have done differently or I could have done better. It gets me thinking about his life. What kind of upbringing must he have had, to turn out the way he is today?

And I can't help but think if I had said something different to his statement an hour ago I could have stopped this.


	9. Half Breed

It's been a week since his last visit. I see no one but Tish who brings just enough food and water for me to survive. There's always a guard in the room so she can't speak. I have no idea what's going on up in the real world. Or even if it's still there any more.

On the tenth day of peace Tish's mother brings the food down. I immediately begin to worry. I check that there's no guard at the door and then urgently ask:

"Where's Tish?"

"She's washing the lower decks."

I breathe a sigh of relief but a wave of anger washes over me as I realise that I had just walked right into his trap. He was probably watching us and howling with laughter at my moment of panic.

I check that there's still no one around. There's not.

"What's happening up top?" I ask. "I've kind of been cut off down here."

She glanced behind her before speaking. "Everything's just getting worse. He's terrified the whole world. He's set up labour camps and work houses. He's even erected statues of himself across the globe."

"What about the labour camps? What does he need them for?"

"He made an announcement when he first started. He's building rockets to go to war with the galaxy."

My blood ran cold. The universe would be sitting up there, defenceless and he would attack. He had said himself that humans had no future but he was going to make one. It was too terrifying to comprehend.

The next day he comes down and kills me again. The forty-first time. He doesn't talk at first, just stalks back and forth, glancing at me every so often. It takes some effort from me to strike up a conversation. I can't even believe I'm trying.

"So you're building rockets then." He didn't flick an eye lid, proving my earlier theory that he was listening in on our conversation.

"Yep." He stopped pacing but doesn't move to strike me.

"So, what, I thought you hated the humans. We're an inferior species according to you and now you want to spread us across the galaxy."

"Of course not. I'm not that stupid." I wanted to answer back with a sarcastic reply but I really wanted to know what was going on and any time alive is a bonus. "I want to create a new Time Lord empire."

"How will you do that when all your children will be half breeds?" His lip curled and he took a step closer. I involuntarily moved back.

"They will not know they are half breeds."

"Uh, why?"

"To name a half breed is to shame him." His eyes dimmed for a moment, reflecting fire though none was present.

I wake from being electrocuted with the distinct feeling that there's more to him than meets the eye.


	10. Most Natural Thing in the World

The forty-second time he kills me he uses an axe. Chopping it into my gut, my arms and my legs. He loves hearing me scream so he went for the throat last and got a good ten minutes of silent screaming before I bled to death.

When I wake I'm alone. The axe is leaning against the wall and congealed blood coverers the floor. Lucy hadn't been in, obviously. I ached from head to toe. I had now been tied up, spread eagled for months and boy, were my bones stiff.

The next three times I die are at the hands of Lucy. I haven't seen her in ages. Well, at least a week. Time seems to stretch out down here. She saunters in as if it was the most natural thing in the world. To her it probably was.

She's back to looking like her old self. Suave. Sophisticated. Self-assured. But he had done something to her. No doubt about it. Every time she kills me I could hear her laughter echoing through my head. She was always there when I woke up and would immediately kill me again, never even letting me catch my breath.

After the third death when I woke she was gone, she had cleaned up the blood and guts, and had apparently stolen the murder weapon. I grinned at the thought. Some souvenir.


	11. Suicide

The forty-sixth time I die, I drowned. Not a pleasant experience. He would come in, knock me around and leave. Back five minutes later carrying a bucket of water. He would play with me first, holding me under the water for a minute and then pulling me up. The 'minute' got longer and longer until I couldn't hold my breath. I opened my mouth and breathed in water.

Every time that I thought I was going to die he stopped, laughing at me as I automatically came up for air, gasping.

"You sound like a dieing fish." I would have said something rude but my lungs were full of water. I could barely breath, letter lone talk. He paced back and forth watching me for sometime after that. I followed him with my eyes. Any move towards me and I would know.

After half an hour, he leapt forward, obviously bored and held my head an inch from the water.

"Have you ever drowned before?" He hissed in my ear. "Do you know if there's anything out there that could kill you?"

I remain silent, wary of this new game. And he's going to kill me anyway, why give him satisfaction?

"Or have you tried them all?" he laughed.

I opened my mouth at that, rather indignantly. "I've never killed myself."

"Never said you did." He answered before pushing my face with my still open mouth under the water.

When I wake from that death I mentally kick myself for being so stupid.

And I add 'drowning' to ways I can't die.


	12. Cuts and Bruises

The next three times I die he cuts my ribs out of my body and plucks out my internal organs.

"Just something to spice up life," were his words as I scream with pain as he spears my stomach with the tip of a knife.

The third time he gets Lucy down here. I haven't seen her since the unfortunate incident with the missing weapon. He came down and questioned me about that for days. I don't know why he was getting so worked up about it but I didn't give him an answer other than: I was dead, I didn't see.

Later he bounded into the room telling me that he'd found the culprit. I must say my blood turned to ice. What if he'd killed her? But he hadn't. It might even be worse what he did.

When he called her down, she was limping. He made her move close so she could see every injury and hear every scream. She was even splattered with my blood. Her arm was in a sling and glancing beneath I saw a raw expanse of flesh where it had been cut away. Her other arm was covered in lesions and welts and I could see a chunk of her shoulder had gone. Her face was pristine though, apart from one small bruise. He was very careful, I thought bitterly.

When I woke from my third organ-plucking death she was standing exactly where he had left her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

She never killed me again.


	13. I waited as long as I could

The fiftieth time he kills me he starts to ask questions about my life in Torchwood. I know he's only bringing it up so I would think about my team. I try not to but it's hard.

He asks which aliens I'd fought. How I'd defeated them. What weapons I'd used. What I thought of Torchwood as a whole.

I didn't answer. No point in indulging him, especially after what he had done to Lucy. But he continued for more than an hour to question me. Sometimes the same questions. Other times they were completely different.

After the two hour mark passed I must admit I was beginning to wonder what the hell I could do to make him shut up. I mean talking very fast for a very long time must be a gift that all Time Lords have but two hours. Please.

Another five minutes and I answered him. I described the aliens and how I defeated them. What weapons I had used and what I thought of the missions. He listened with rapt attention. Like a child listening to a bed time story.

I talk for ten minutes, thinking that the longer I talk the longer I'd stay alive. But I finally run out of words. I can't say anything else without talking about my team and I dpn't want that. It's surprises me that he hasn't asked one question about them.

After I fall silent he nods and rises from his position, crouched on the floor. He crosses to where I stand and went behind me. I push forward, away from him automatically. He reaches up and places his hands on my neck, calmly snapping it.

But I swear, just before I die I heard something in my head, resonating:

I'm sorry. I've got to do this. I waited as long as I could. I'll try to make quick.


	14. Responsibility

TThe fifty-first time he kills me he walks into the room like he was driven. Every step was purposeful and every flick of his eyes a promise of what was to come.

"So, you think you could get your precious Doctor to try and stop me killing you?"

I stare at him blankly. I don't have a clue what he's talking about. He circles round behind me. I craned my neck but he was out of my line of sight.

"You think _he _could stop me? You think _he'd _be strong enough?"

"Certainly not if it's in an ego competition." I mutter. He walks around to the front so that I could see him.

"You think my ego's big, do you?"

I hadn't been expecting that. I had thought I would get a fist to my face, not genuine curiosity.

"Do you?" he repeated.

"Yeah." I reply. I know I should have said no, I should have bowed my head and given in. But I can't. Not to him and not now. I don't care if he kills me again. I would always come back. And it would be more satisfying, waking up to see his frustration at being not able to kill me then to not die at all. That was the male in me talking but it was still a pretty good idea.

But he didn't raise his arm. He didn't produce some concealed weapon. He didn't step forward. He stayed where he was, impassive. It seemed he was waiting.

Finally he laughed, which sounded really unnerving. The Master, laughing at a joke about himself! I never thought I'd see the day.

"You should have seen your precious Doctor's when he was younger."

"How much younger, though?"

"Barely three hundred."

"Well, we're all rash, when we're young." I chided him. I mean three hundred. I was barely over one fifty.

"Not Time Lords, though. We were all meant to be... responsible." He spat the word like a disease.

"Well maybe a little responsibility would be good for you." He laughed at that. He really laughed. Not an insane chuckle. A real laugh. I was beginning to think someone had swapped him.

"There were some troubled children." I resisted the urge to say: 'like you' and he continued. "Children that didn't belong. We were two of them. We wanted freedom. But I remember one of our teachers saying that to us: A little responsibility would be good for you, in our second year."

He stalked up to me and whispered in my ear.

"Right after our first kill."

He shot me.

He walked away.


	15. Not A Murderer

I wake from my last death with the Master's voice still ringing in my ears:

"Right after our first kill."

It can't have been the Doctor. The Doctor wouldn't kill. And that was where I stopped myself. Because yes, the Doctor had killed and plentifully. I could well believe that the Doctor would kill someone threatening Time Lord society, even though he was young.

Yes, that must be it. The Doctor would have killed a threatening alien and of course the rest of the Time Lords would have taken it badly. Yes, that was it.

"So any other thoughts." I jumped. He was behind me and must have been the whole time since I had returned from the dead.

"Yeah, you're like a fly. Someone who pops up everywhere he's not supposed to and isn't wanted anywhere else."

"Well, I must say you have regained you composure. When you first came back," I heard him draw closer, "I thought you were going to tear the chains out of the wall and that shouting: The Doctor is not a murderer. The Doctor is not a murderer. The Doctor is not... Oh dear, you don't seem to be listening." I had been. I had merely closed my eyes, but the laser cutting through my flesh caused me to open them again and scream in pain.

"That's better."

"What do you want?" I was so tired. Tired of the Master and his games. Tired of the Valliant and the deaths that I'd been delivered. I was tired of everything. And not for the first time in my life I wished that I could die.


	16. Forgiven Before His Time

"_What do you want?" I was so tired. Tired of the Master and his games. Tired of the Valiant and the deaths that I had been delivered. I was tired of everything. And not for the first time in my life I wished that I could die._

"What I want? What. I. Want? Now that's such a tough question. I want death, destruction, pain, mayhem, explosions and recently I've discovered a love for caravans diving over cliffs. Preferably with people in them! But most of all I want you to accept that your precious Doctor," he sneered at me, "is a murderer."

"I accept it."

He looked taken aback. "What? That's it? You accept that the "love of your life" kills."

"Yeah." I shrugged.

"You're no fun at all, you know that?"

"So sorry." I replied sarcastically. I wasn't going to argue the Doctor's case all for the amusement of a megalomaniac.

"Oh you will be."

I shook my head. "I don't get you."

He paused in his walk crossing the room and turned back to me. "What don't you get?"

"After everything you and he have been through; after everything he's done for you and all he's suffered, you still can't find it in your heart to forgive him from running away from you all those years ago."

He was silent, shocked. His mouth hung open slightly and his brow was furrowed. When he pulled himself together it was with considerable effort. "What's he told you?"

"What hasn't he?" I was piecing snippets of information that Doctor had told me and Martha before hand, as well as the behaviour that the Doctor and the Master had for one another, together and, judging at the Master's reaction, I had hit a nerve.

He moved towards me silently, like a tiger stalking its prey. He stopped in front of me and spoke softly but with so much power. "You. Don't. Know. Anything."

I swallowed. "I know you'll never forgive him. But what I don't see is why."

He smiled suddenly. "As I said, you know nothing. If you did then you'd know the answer to that question." He turned away and walked across the room, picking up a garden hose on the way.

As he returned to me, after turning a tap on, I registered in his eyes a kind of relief. Even the thought that I had found a way to get to him turned his stomach. He couldn't handle the fact that he was weak. He smiled at me and doused me with the water. I shook my head to get the water out of my eyes but he wrapped the hose around my neck and started to choking me. "I told you you'd be sorry."

As the world faded to black I turned my head to his, so we were only a few inches apart. I focused my eyes and managed to speak the last words I ever would in this life.

"I forgave him."


	17. Imaginary Horrors

Sorry for the massive wait. I've just been working on so many other things. Well, here's the next chapter and I have three more written that will be put up over the next few days.

* * *

The fifty-third time I died he entered the room behind several other men. The men were carrying a good many boxes between them. They set them down on the floor and began to unpack.

He walked up to me casually and lent against the wall to the left, watching the men. I looked from him to the men and back again. I wondered what sick torture he had planned for me this time.

The men unpacked what looked like a play station, though they were probably called something different now, I thought. I didn't exactly make it my business to keep up with the latest console the kids were drooling over.

Once the men were finished they stood to attention against the opposite wall. Not one of them would look me in the eye, or look up from the floor. Just another wave of humanity turned against their fellows, I thought sadly.

He sauntered up to them slowly, his eyes running over the console, and TV that had been set up with it. He smiled grimly.

"Who got the television?" He rolled the words off his tongue like a mantra, though they had no lyrical feel to them whatsoever.

One of the men stepped forward and I myself was impressed with his bravery. "I did, sir."

"It..." He ran a hand along the side of the screen. "Is scratched." He turned the television so the back faced the room. I could see a thick black scar running the length of the casing. There was no way he could have seen it from the angle he was in.

The man who had stepped forward obviously knew as such but still thought, that if he went along with it, he might get out alive. Idiot. He should have run.

"I'm ever so sorry, sir."

"Report to the disintegration chambers." He turned away, as if bored.

I stared in shock as the man addressed snapped his heels together sharply and left the room. The only sign he knew he had just been sent to his death was a slight paling of the colour in his cheeks.

"Dismissed." He waved a hand at the remaining men and they all but scattered, thankful to have escaped with their lives.

He then sat in front of the TV and pulled a controller out of the one remaining box, along with a game, and continued to play for the next half hour, completely ignoring me.

I tried to look on the bright side. If he was playing some kid's game he wasn't killing me. I angled my head to the side, however, to try and see the game he had pulled from the box. The picture on the front was one of an alien spaceship. I couldn't read the inscription.

He suddenly sighed crossly. "You know..." he hauled the television around so I could see the screen; throwing himself down in front of it again. "It's amazing how wrong they manage to get these things."

"They are only human."

He glanced back and me and shrugged. "Quite right." I found it strange he had turned his back to me but I suppose he didn't think I was a threat tied up like this. "Though..." He laughed. "Look at this." He motioned at the screen. "Flying saucers kidnapping cows!" He shifted back suddenly to lean against my legs. I was unable to move but sent him a look of hatred when he glanced up at me. His only reaction was "Ta," and he continued with the game.

That was exactly what the Doc would have said, I realised. If the Doctor turned into a power hungry megalomaniac overnight that is. But the way he held his head, the way the tongue poked through the teeth when he concentrated was exactly the same as the Doctor. A shiver ran down my spine. The Doctor wasn't meant to look the same as a crazy killer.

"This is boring." He announced. I braced myself for the death that was about to come. Sure enough he leapt up. "Let's kill you, eh?" But instead of shooting me he bounded across the room to the discarded box and pulled out another game, which he put into the console.

When it loaded I saw it was called Alien Agent Killer. As the picture focused I saw a barren desert landscape with a few figures dotted around. A figure popped up at the front of the screen and shot each of the figures in turn. As the camera panned closer I saw the dead figures were perfect models of me, coat and all.

"You see..." He leapt up, crossing to the box again and retrieving a set of coloured wires. "They _stay _dead... and whatever your limits you _do _die."

I thought about this for a moment. "I thought you _didn't _want me to."

"Exactly." He danced up to me and fixed a few of the wires to my chest. He paused, grinning. "You're confused aren't you?"

Without waiting for a response he returned to the console and began to play again, giving a running commentary. "Now, boys and girls, it is imperative to not try this at home. Professionals only. And we are now entering the highest level. Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Now, may I please have a volunteer? Be warned, this is not for the faint hearted. Are, good man." He stood and crossed to my side. "You look like a brave soul. Do you have what it takes?" He paused for a moment as if waiting for a response, but when it was made clear he wouldn't be getting anything more than a look of creeped out Jack on my face he began to talk again. "This man here will now demonstrate the newest technology available to mankind. Now, you may ask, what's a Xbox and a bunch of wires going to achieve? But please, watch and learn."

He grinned at me one last time before pressing the play button. On the screen, I could now see a hotel reception with a number of pillars. Ever few second a mini figure of me would pop out from behind a statue and give a little wave before pulling itself back again.

Beside me, he was salivating. A few more seconds and he pressed the fire button on his controller. I was watching the screen when it happened and saw a tiny version of me get blown apart. I didn't merely see it though. I _felt _it!

It felt like _I _was the one being blown apart and, as I screamed, he began to talk again.

"Wasn't that impressive? You don't just get to _kill. _You get to _be _killed." He fired again and again I continued to scream. "Well, that's it for today ladies and gentlemen. Tune in tomorrow for some more Doctor bashing and our newest spectacle: killing the greatest singers of our time."

He remained like that for a few seconds, a grin plastered across his face before throwing an arm around my shoulders. I was hurting too much to shrug him off. "Wasn't that exciting, Jackie boy? You could be part of earth history! I mean..." He flicked another control, putting the console on automatic. "You were on world wild television!"

As he walked from the room I screamed again as imaginary bullets and grenades cut through me.

When I finally died, it was simply because of the pain.


	18. Just Dropping Through

When I next saw him he jogged into the room silently. The wires from the previous death still hung from my chest and he ripped them off, causing me to wince. He also packed up the television and console into the box that hadn't been moved over the few days since I'd seen him.

While he worked he sang what sounded like a rock and roll song under his breath. "Put your hands up for Detroit. A lovely city. Put your hands up... Put your hands up... Put..."

He continued singing the same two lines of the song till he'd packed everything into the box which he flung down a nearby disposable chute.

He then paused, looking at me. He then looked back at the chute, chewing his lip as if he was deep in thought. When he looked at me again his eyes were lidded and a dark smile was playing across his face.

He whistled once and three guards ran into the room. Smiling once more at me, he walked over to them and spoke in a hushed voice. I could only catch a few words.

"Untie..... freak. Put............. the chute. Random..................................... good hunt.................... Have...... guards let him................. reign................................. areas. ............................. kill..... Anyone................. touches......... dies. Understood?"

The three guards nodded. One ran from the room while the other two approached me warily. This could be fun, I thought. As one took up a position in front of me the other moved towards where I was chained to the wall. As he reached upwards I suddenly moved forward till I was right in his face, and leered at him. With a yelp of surprise the guard stumbled back and fell. I was about to laugh but didn't quite get there before the other guard open fired.

When I woke the guard who I had scared was holding me up. He had a look of utter contempt written across his otherwise handsome features. I could see the Master standing over the body of the second guard. I felt a wave of guilt threaten to overcome me. He'd been killed because of me. The Master had long ago warned the guards that anyone who killed me without his authority would die and this guard had done just that.

The Master sauntered up to me. "And know... if you resist again this one..." he motioned the guard supporting me. "Dies as well." He nodded to said guard. "Throw him in."

My eyes narrowed as the guard hauled me over to the disposal chute. This was not going to be pretty!

As the guard tried to heave me up (I can weigh a good lot when I want to) I lodged my legs into the opening so he couldn't move me. He quickly lost patience and moved to strike me with his gun.

"No." The Master moved forward. "He is to be undamaged." He lent against the wall and looked down at me, wedged half in, half out of the chute. "If..." he spoke slowly, "you resist he will die." He pointed at the guard, who was looking paler by the second.

I realised I couldn't let this man die on my behalf, even if he was a murderer; it wouldn't make any difference. I would still have to take part in whatever sick experiment the Master had devised. Another body wouldn't make any difference.

I glanced down the chute. "I'll get stuck." I warned them.

The Master smiled, his eyes shining with mirth. "Hope that you don't. It won't be long before today's radioactive waste dump."

I risked another look down the chute and shook my head. "Radioactivity doesn't kill me." When, I thought, did I begin to gage the risks of life with whether they could kill me or not?

The Master raised an eyebrow. "Something you've left out of your recitals of Torchwood. That will have to be remedied. When..." He moved closer. "When you come back up." He gave me a gentle push. When I didn't budge he turned a cold smile to the guard and held out a hand. The man handed over his weapon and stood to attention as the Master raised it to point at him. He was prepared to die, I realised. Well, no! This is one death the Master will be cheated of.

I shifted into the shaft of the chute and, estimating the distance to the next opening, dropped.


	19. Stopping To Say Hi

True to form, and to my prediction, less than two metres into the chute, it jack knifed inwards and I found myself securely wedged between the opposing walls. I craned my neck backwards and could just see the heads of the Master and the guard sticking out of the opening above him. The guard looked grateful, the Master amused but annoyed.

I observed my predicament. There was no way I would be able to fit through going down, but, if the Master allowed it, I could probably climb back up.

I looked up again, wrenching my neck in the process. "Told you I'd get stuck. Now you have to come get me."

The light smile of the Master's face disappeared as the heads did and the door to the chute clanged shut. I ground my teeth together. How long did the Master say it was till the radioactive stuff came whooshing through here? And would the Master wait that long to get me out? He couldn't, I decided. The radioactive waste must fall outside of the ship and I highly doubt the Master would let me fall to earth never to be seen again. The routes these chutes took could be changed, proven by the Master's use of the word "random" whilst talking to the guards, so I must be pulled out before the waste came down.

Hopefully.

A few minutes later light flooded the shaft again as the door reopened. The Master's head reappeared. "Arh, how sweet." He crooned. "You haven't even moved."

"Not like I can." I muttered underneath my breath.

The Master's arm came into view, being forced into the shaft along with his head. It would be _so _funny is he _did _come down to get me!

Unfortunately my humorous nature wasn't to be satisfied and he merely waved at me. I could see what looked like a small control device in his hand and suddenly felt very cold. I could laugh all I wanted, but that wouldn't change the fact that this madman wanted to kill me as many times as possible.

One of his fingers suddenly stabbed down of a button and the entire shaft shifted around me.

"You see," he shouted. "I helped design this _wonderful _ship. And I added a few... alien features to assist me. I even anticipated your fatness!"

The shaft continued to shake and move around me. Looking up, I could see the crack of light from the doorway getting smaller and smaller and looking down, the way was opening up for me.

I had a moment to pray I would land on something soft before I was falling again. And this time I wasn't stopping.


	20. As Sadistic As Any Human, The Universe

My vision was slightly blurred as I awoke. It felt to me as if I'd been merely knocked out and hadn't died _this _time. I eased myself out from the rubbish bin I had landed in. Glancing over the edge I saw it was quite a drop, but I grabbed onto a handy bar imbedded in the ceiling and swung down with relative ease.

I had no doubt that this was another one of the Master's sick games and I was to be "hunted" across the ship. He would be the only one though. Probably. He would want to catch me himself and although he had great fun watching the guards shooting me, something told me that this was something he wanted to do himself.

Doesn't mean I have to go quietly, I thought. I looked at the plans of this place when I was in Torchwood. The British government had asked me to give a recommendation. I knew at the time that it didn't matter one way or another what I said; they were still going to build the damn thing.

But now I was glad the idiots up at Number 10 had cared enough to even send me the plans. Cos now I knew where I was (level 10, corridor 4F, disposal) and I could make a bid for freedom.

I briefly thought about stealing one of the fighter jets up top, but I would get shot down before I'd gotten ten feet, and no matter how cool it would look, it would be a pointless exercise.

I crept silently out of the disposal room and into corridor 4F. I heard the rattle of boots but they were several decks above me, and I wasn't going up, I was going down. The main room, which had been built as the conference room, was located 3 or 4 floors below me. That would be where the Doctor would be held.

I set off cautiously, well aware that I had no weapon and was surrounded by people who would kill me without a thought. At an intersection I paused, glancing down at the corridor that led away from the conference room. I wasn't thinking of saving my own skin, as I would have done before I'd met the Doc, but rather if any of the other prison cells were occupied. If I could get just a couple of people free then we'd stand a chance; maybe take out a few guards and have some real weapons. It was worth a shot. I was no use to the Doctor on my own and _not_ causing mayhem.

The first four cells I look in are empty, and I'm considering just getting the Doctor out on my own, when the heavy footfalls of the guards' boots reaches my ears. I press myself against the fifth cell door, but there was no way the guards wouldn't see me. I could hear them moving quickly down the adjacent corridor. Any second they would round the corner and see me, crouched against the wall.

I turned hurriedly and started to fiddle with the lock to the cell door behind me. Lock picking had never been my strong point. Locks were small, and I don't do things small.

The boots were getting closer and closer. I could just imagine the guards rounding the corner and their bullets tearing into me. I know somewhere deep down that the Master wouldn't allow anyone else to kill me but himself, but I was terrified; I wasn't thinking clearly. It's strange how me being killed still affects me as strongly as it did when I was mortal. You never become hardened to death, at least not your own. You can shut it out, make like you don't care, and keep those feelings down deeper than anyone would think to look; but everyone's scared of pain and death, even if I come back every time.

And that somehow makes it worse. Because with mortals, at least they know the torture of life is over when they die. All I have to look forward to is returning from the dark and being killed again and again, until the universe gets bored, or finally runs out of bullets.


	21. That Of A Time Agent

The footsteps were getting nearer and nearer. I bit my tongue as it poked between my teeth, concentrating for my life.

When the door opened I fell through it like a drowning man into a life boat, hooking it closed behind me with my foot. I kept low as I listened to the boots go past the door, and let out the breath I'd been holding.

I rose gingerly to my feet, throwing the discarded lock to one side, thanking whichever god was the most popular on earth at the moment that the soldiers were all idiots, and hadn't noticed one of the cell doors was ajar.

I turned to the room I had found myself in, and was surprised to not find an inhospitable cell meeting my eyes. Instead, there was a carpet laid across the floor, beginning several metres from the door, curtains hung around windows showing nothing but blue sky, and a king sized bed in pride of place.

There was another door off to my left which I presumed led to a bathroom. I limped across to the bed, only realising now I _had_ been injured in my fall down the chute, and my leg was bleeding quite profusely.

I flopped down onto the bed, tearing a strip of my shirt off and wrapping it around my leg. The shirt seemed to be infused with dirt, but it wasn't like I was going to permanently die from an infection.

I knew I couldn't stay here for any longer than was necessary. The Master would already be hunting me, and there's no easier prey to capture than a stationary one. But it was only once I'd stood up I realised how quite it was.

I shivered. I didn't like silence. It was too much like stepping into the darkness again. Because silence doesn't mean that there's nothing chasing you, it just means whatever _is_ chasing you is very good at keeping quiet.

I cocked my head to the side, listening intently. I was sure I had heard the pipes when I'd come in. I'd heard the water rushing through them. I frowned suddenly, my eyes narrowing. There _aren't_ any water pipes in this part of this ship. My head turned slowly, almost comically, towards the door that led into the bathroom. From beneath said door I could see movement, disrupting the light.

I was gone in a second, well before the door began to open, pressing myself to the wall behind it. I was well aware I had no weapons on my side, only my training which, I figured, was almost certainly better than the other guy's.

A tall, healthy looking man stepped through the door. He wore a pair of soldier's uniform trousers, but no shirt. I allowed him to get two metres away from the bathroom door before I reacted. I leapt forward, striking at the base of his neck, in what should have been a knockout blow.

But, for whatever reason, he moved slightly to the left at the last second, my blow still bringing him down, but not even dazing him enough to stop him rolling out of the way of a kick that would have sent his head crashing to the floor.

We were facing each other across the room. He got slowly to his feet, one hand grasping the back of his neck where my punch had landed. Confusion was written across his face. Obviously, no one had been told they'd be getting a visit from Jackie-boy today.

I ran my eyes up and down his body, paused for a second, and then leered at him, inwardly grinning as the man in front of me went bright red, and launched himself across the room at me, completely uncoordinated.

I blocked his blows easily, and felt the Time Agent in me rising. I'd been unable to fight for so long the training within me was shouting at me to let it all out. I mentally paused, blocking a punch the soldier threw at me, sending one of my own back, making him tumble backwards over the bed. Why the hell _shouldn't_ I let my anger go? After all, I'd lost count of the number of times I'd died, and this man wasn't about to help me. He was just another _stupid _human who didn't fight for what he believed in.

I crossed the room, and leapt across the bed, landing on the man's back. He was half off the floor when I connected, and I sent him back to the carpet, winded. I rolled off him, and crouched against the wall, waiting for him to rise.

Instead, he crawled backwards to the bed, and used it to haul himself up. He held out a hand, palm facing me.

"Please. Don't."

I narrowed my eyes. "Pardon?"

The man in front of me swallowed, lower lip trembling. "Please. You win. Don't kill me."

I growled at him, threateningly. He yelped, even though I hadn't even moved, and scrambled back across the bed, away from me.

I let him get half way across the floor before I made my move, bracing myself against the wall and flying across the room, bringing him down and pinning him to the floor.

"How many times do you think I've said that, huh?" I wrenched an arm behind his back. "How many times have I asked not to die?" I pinned his other arm to the floor with my knee. "How many times…" I gripped the back of his neck with my free hand. "Have I _died_?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" He was crying now, but I found my self uncaring. All the hate, the pain, the rage, was spilling out of me; the Time Agent was controlling.

"Call yourself a soldier?" I lifted his head with the hand on his neck and smashed it into the floor, shifting him forward slightly so his head bounced off the solid concrete, as opposed to the soft carpet.

A few more of those and he was limp. I rolled off him, collapsing into the carpet, my own tears now running down my cheeks.

I glanced over at the man who was no longer breathing. His face was turned towards me, rivulets of blood careening down his face. I shifted closer, pulling an access card from his pocket. I could only hope this would get me where I needed to go.

I glanced down at myself. To add to the dirt and various other bodily fluids my clothes had carried for months, they were now covered in this soldier's blood. I grimaced, hoping that there was a change of clothes in the bathroom.

I pulled myself up, sighing, and dismissing the body beneath me as something that wasn't needed for survival.

The bathroom was well furnished, with a toilet and shower, accompanied by a marble basin, embedded into the floor, covering more than half of the large room. I frowned, still in the door way, surprised that the Master would allow the common soldier these comforts.

Moving into the bathroom, I toyed with the idea of having a long soak, and damn the Master. The choice was taken from me, however, as I moved towards the basin, and something heavy came down on my head, and the world went dark.


End file.
